


Warrior Cars - Unbrakeable

by dannywelsh



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Cars, Gen, dont question it, honestly its just warriorcats but with cars, i mean idk what else, ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannywelsh/pseuds/dannywelsh
Summary: 2052. Self-driving cars are not only the norm but have developed a conscience. While most still choose to stay with the twolegs, more and more are leaving their garages for a free life in the wild. Despite his name, Rusty is a shining new Ferrari and tempted by a free life. Rather abruptly, he catches the eye of a Range Rover Model F-2047 called Bluestar, who is leader of ThunderClan – one of the competing groups in the thrilling Free Car Cup. Amongst good and bad, fast and furious, will Rusty find his way?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Into the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> quite obviously inspired by a typo, thanks liz

It was a sunny day and the sun reflected on Rusty’s metallic red polish. He could feel his bonnet warming up from the heat but for now, he enjoyed not being cooped up in the garage. Despite the situation being rather relaxing and calming, his wheels were itching to get some exercise. He checked his board computer. His twolegs were not due to leave for their meeting for another hour — there was more than enough time for a short drive.  
  
He released the handbrakes and felt himself slowly beginning to roll down the driveway and into the road. His home was in a small suburban area where his sharp features and metallic hub caps stuck out from the other cars, making him a status symbol for his family. The road was empty as he rolled onto the asphalt. Most people would be taking their daily government approved walk out to the park or the lake to enjoy the weather — the cars left inside, resting. Even though no one was there, Rusty adhered to the safety speed regulations as he drove down the road. He would be able to go faster once he reached the walled speedway.  
  
Those new roads were major highway connections that often went for tens of miles without an exit and with large walls towering to either side. Here there were no speed limits. Twolegs were strictly kept off the road and the self-driving cars left to their own devices. Rusty’s family did a lot of interstate travelling and he loved being out on the speedway, accelerating to his maximum speed of 293 mph to get his twolegs to their destination as quickly as possible. He could not deny how proud he was of his built. He was not the newest model, but still highly sought after and equipped with the revolutionary AGG 5.0 electric motor that had hit the market just three years earlier and was yet to be copied by the other major car manufacturers. Rusty was far from stupid and he knew how much his built was worth — and he appreciated the status and possibilities that came with that.  
  
After not too long, he reached the crossroad and felt himself stop. Something inside of him yearned to go left, away from town and towards the woods. His garagemate, who was a true oldtimer, had told him about the paths there. Perfect for an old motorcycle like the 2023 Ducati V4S 2.0. Rusty felt a strange attraction to the woods and the idea of speeding across the bumps and ramps but at the same time he knew he was not the same as Smudge. Wider, with more power underneath his hood and, more importantly, with wheels not built for off-road use. Yet, still…  
  
Rusty felt his front wheels turning sideways, left. He was going to be careful, he told himself. One try would not hurt. So he gave into his instincts and let his wheels carry him down the smaller road, at a paced speed, and into the wild. This was the first time that Rusty had approached the woods closer. He was a car built for speed and looks and his twolegs both enjoyed his tempo on their far travels and bathed in the status that came from showing him off. Driving him to rural areas was no use to them — and for fun adventures, the male twoleg had Smudge.  
  
There was a real sense of excitement as Rusty’s wheels rolled from asphalt onto dirt. He didn’t know if it was just the forest itself or the thrill of the unknown. The sounds that his board microphone picked up were not what he was used to — and somewhere between them, he picked up faint bluetooth waves. He brushed it off and turned to the tracks he had spotted.  
  
Full of excitement, he prepared to build speed and jump the first gap. When he hit the gas, he felt the dirt being disturbed and hitting his hind wheels. He secretly hoped his twolegs wouldn’t notice the dirt once he got back home. He shot forward and quickly reached the wooden ramp, that sent the Ferrari flying to the other side. He drifted sideways, his body turning and more loose dirt coming up to either side of him. But then he stopped. The bluetooth signal was getting louder, closer.  
  
“Who’s there?” his voice control spoke innocently but with a hint of caution. In his voice settings, a soft male voice had been selected that spoke calmly and with a British accent. The Bluetooth signal kept getting stronger and carefully and slowly, Rusty let himself roll back a little. Someone was out there. He was not stupid, he had heard the tales. Not just from Smudge but from others as well. The news mentioned them occasionally — the deserters. The cars that decided they did not need their twolegs anymore and commenced a life in the wild.  
  
“I’m not afraid of you,” Rusty let know through his voice command program. It ultimately wasn’t a lie, but not far off from one. He could feel his motor heating up, getting ready to speed as soon as he had to. His acceleration rate was zero to a hundred in 3.29 seconds. Not the ultimate best, but far superior to most models.  
  
Then something hit him in the side – not devastatingly hard but hard enough that he felt his metal denting a little. He spun around, his wheels losing traction on the ground they were clearly not made for. “Hello pet,” a voice uttered, also stemming from a board computer. Rusty recognised it from the 2050.3 patch of the Hyundai system. This was a fairly new car — not what he had been expecting from the stories. He managed to stop his wheels and turn to face his attacker. It was a grey N77, a mid-field racing car aimed at twolegs with lower income. There was a slight crack in his windshield and his entire body was covered in dirt. Where Rusty was expecting a licence plate there was an empty spot — there was no question that he was facing a wild car.  
  
“Don’t call me that.” His voice was stern, his mind set on showing the cheap deserter in front of him who he was talking to. A chuckle came from the other one. “But you are. What are you doing out here? This is not your place.” Rusty’s wheels began to spin as he prepared to hit his opponent. But before he could do so, another car appeared behind the Hyundai. “Enough!” This time the voice was a harsh female voice with an Australian accent. Rusty’s board computer quickly recognised it as belonging to a metallic blue Range Rover model F-2047. Not a bad car, mainly because it was built both for the speedways and off-road use. However, after five years, it would hardly be able to compete with him. Still, Rusty stopped his wheels and focussed on the Range Rover.  
  
“That was a good jump, pet,” she stated and rolled a little closer to him. Rusty was trying his hardest not to feel intimidated by her. “Would you be up for a race?” He could feel his motor heating up even more. His entire body was vibrating at the thought of it. He knew he was fast — that was one of his best qualities. “Always,” he replied calmly while keeping his wheels straight. She hummed with a satisfied tone before she parked herself sideways, signalising a starting line. Rusty obliged, coming to a halt next to the grey Hyundai, their sidemirrors almost touching.  
  
“It’s on, pet,” the other muttered but the Ferrari didn’t even bother replying. A loud and long sound of the Range Rover’s horn signalised the start of the race and Rusty immediately shot forward. The dirty ground was not giving his wheels much to hold onto so he felt himself swerving a little and missing his top acceleration. But he quickly got back on track and the Hyundai was still behind him. Rusty took a sharp turn and sped towards the next jump. As he climbed the ramp, he could feel the wild car catching up to him and when he landed his jump in a not particularly elegant way, the grey car was side by side with him again, a smug laugh escaping his voice command.  
  
Rusty accelerated again as they approached a thin passage between the trees. He fit through the gap almost perfectly, very little space remaining between his mirrors and the trees. Behind him, he heard the wild car knocking one of his mirrors against the oaks. Rusty hoped it fell off. He approached the next curve and threw himself into it, drifting smoothly towards the last bit of the track. Even though he could feel the grey car shortly behind him, Rusty knew he stayed in the lead.  
  
He felt himself getting a bit cocky and didn’t slow down as he approached the last hurdle — two long wooden boards allowing the passage over a gap. As soon as his wheels hit the wood, Rusty realised that he should have been more careful. His left side was too close to the edge of the board and as he furiously tried to slow himself down, his wheels lost all grip and he dove bonnet first into the dirt. Thankfully, he didn’t think it would have cost him more than a few minor scratches. No further dents, as far as he could feel.  
  
He almost expected laughter as the Range Rover’s shining polish appeared by him. But instead, she seemed to let her visual recognition eye him for a few moments. “Not bad,” she finally said as the Hyundai appeared again, side mirror scratched but still attached. “Who are you?” Rusty repeated as he backed up to bring some distance between them. His motor was hotter than it had ever been, every single connection in his built shaking.  
  
“My name is Bluestar,” the Range Rover introduced herself before turning her front wheels to point to the Hyundai. “This is Graywheel. We are cars of ThunderClan, one of the four wild clans.” Rusty stopped himself from rolling back further. He didn’t quite feel like himself anymore – new scratches and a dent to his previously impeccable body, dirt all over his wheels and spread across his windshield. He didn’t dare put on his wipers in front of Bluestar, though.  
  
“I think you have talent. I would like to invite you to join us.” A surprised -wroom- came from Greywheel’s engine. “Bluestar… are you sure?” With a quick move she seemed to silence him before turning her wheels again so that her headlights were facing Rusty. “Do you really want to spend your life serving the twolegs? I can tell you’re not here because they sent you out; this is not an area where a sportscar like you would go. I am giving you this opportunity to leave your old life behind and be free.” Rusty was confused. This was certainly not something that he had been expecting but he could not deny that she was speaking some truth.  
  
Why had he been so thrilled to drive into the woods? Something inside of him had taken him here instead of the speedway. And the competitiveness he had felt in the race against Greywheel had filled him with much more satisfaction and excitement than any drive along the speedway had done in a long time. Maybe it was time for something new… He noticed it had stayed silent for a few moments and both of the wild cars were still facing him.  
  
“Fine,” he spoke. “I will join ThunderClan.”


	2. The Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise for chapter one:  
> "what is it" - my best friend  
> "Noice" - Noice

The sun was setting before too long and Rusty forced himself to ignore the beeping of his board monitor reminding him about the missed appointment. It was a good thing that he knew his tracker was not working — the twolegs had gotten it installed a week earlier and something had seemingly gone wrong, they had mentioned wanting to take him back to the garage eventually. By leaving, he had cost them a lot of money, he knew that. But they were wealthy. Yes, they enjoyed his speed and looks but they would easily be able to replace his model, maybe even upgrade to a newer version on the market. Rusty didn’t feel bad about not feeling bad. 

His wheels had been turning for ages and he felt their profile using up slightly. All the jumping and racing around the dirt track had not done him any good physically. Still, he now felt determined to start this new journey and join the wild car clan. He was trailing behind Bluestar and Greywheel, who were leading the way. The cars stayed silent, except for a metallic clapping sound coming from the Range Rover — some lose part dragging across the ground, perhaps. Rusty was not surprised. She was not the newest car and even though she was also built for off-road use, the world as a free car was harsher and there were no twolegs to take you to a garage if there were issues. You just had to sit it out by yourself. 

As the dark began consuming the forest, Rusty switched on his headlights. They shone bright and clear, making him stick out from the other two. Not only were their lights covered in layers upon layers of dirt, the bulbs seemed to have way less power behind them compared to Rusty’s. Additionally, Bluestar’s left headlight showed a crack and didn’t light. Neither of the clan cars provided sufficient light to illuminate their way, Rusty found. But then again, he figured there was little use for that. Their GPS trackers and board signals did the job for them. The light was like an extra bonus to spot things the computer might not notice right away. 

For Rusty, such a thing appeared as they turned a corner and arrived by a metallic ramp leading down to a pit, the sides hollowed out to create something like garages in the earthy ground. Greywheel and Bluestar drove down into the camp first while Rusty followed, astonished at what he was seeing and perplexed by the effort that must have gone into transforming the dirt into this. It was no garage, in no way comparable to what he was used to. And in a way the Ferrari found himself shocked — not only because of the creation he was looking at, but also at the thought of living there. 

Rusty’s bluetooth signal started detecting more and more presences and out of the shadows, he could hear the sounds of engines turning on, one by one. When he got off the ramp, he hit the brakes, stopping and keeping a distance from the other deserters. Suddenly, he felt intimidated and there was no denying it. He turned down the brightness of his headlights and turned on the braking signal. Cars started coming out of their cave-like homes, driving in ominous circles around the sides of the pit. They kept their distance from him as well, but he could feel their detectors reaching out to him, bluetooth signals swarming through the air, visual recognition software locking onto him.

With a honk from Bluestar, the cars stopped where they were, but Rusty did not feel like any attention was being diverted away from him. He took the moment to let his detectors swerve across the clan. There were all kinds of cars — ones which he had rarely encountered on the street and others, that he would have never expected to turn out as deserters. There were both electric cars, which had been mandatory for a few years now, and a few older cars that seemed to still run on petrol, like Smudge did. Between the parked vehicles, there were a few motorcycles filling the gaps, though barely any. Rusty wondered if Smudge had ever considered leaving the twolegs and joining a clan. 

“Cars of ThunderClan, I have an announcement to make. The pet you see in front of you has sh own great talent on the training tracks. As of tomorrow, he will be training with us for the races. I will not hear complaints.” The buzzing of engines hung in the air. Rusty had turned off his motor, waiting for it to cool off a little and allow him to think clearer. The atmosphere was intense and as if in an attempt to make himself a little more invisible, the Ferrari let his brake lights fade out. 

A sly laugh was heard. Male, American. The standard setting for most cars. “But he’s a pet. He doesn’t have it in him to compete. There’s nothing behind that shiny, expensive exterior. He wasn’t made for this.” Slowly, a Jeep Wagoneer CJ Hybrid rolled forward, towards Rusty. Under layers of dust and dirt, signs of a military pattern were showing across the body of the utility vehicle. The model was a little older, but showed fewer signs of use and destruction than one would expect. The car had larger, thick wheels that were clearly made driving off-road. It also meant that the Jeep was towering over Rusty like a threatening menace. 

“What did I say about complaints, Longtail?” Bluestar hissed, swerving around, causing dirt to come flying. The Jeep stopped, but his headlights continued to point towards Rusty, staring right at his windshield due to their height difference. “You cannot be serious,” the disobedient clan car hissed back, his voice clearly agitated. At this point, Rusty could not hide his fear, but at the same time a sense of determination rose within him. He knew the only way to get out of this situation would be to prove himself. He had to show Longtail that he was able to compete. 

Silence hung between them again as Rusty tried to grasp the bravery he needed to go up against Longtail. He wondered, if it was really this hard for him to stand up for himself, if he was really this intimidated by just one car, was he truly made for this life? He stopped his own thought process. No car was made for life in the wild. This was a rebellion, a life chosen to be free from the twolegs. A path he had chosen the moment he had turned left at the intersection. 

“Well then,” Rusty finally said. He re-started his motor, which only made the slightest of noises, immediately drowned out by all of the other buzzing engines. “Let’s race.” It was a bold move, but he spoke confidently and with no doubt in his voice. He could sense the signals from the other cars, he felt how shocked they were. Though at the very least Greywheel, who was still relatively close to him, could not hide an emotion resembling respect at Rusty’s words. 

“Pet,” Bluestar chimed in but Longtail was quick to silence her as he came out of his perplexed pause. Rusty could not help but feel a little accomplished considering he had overcome the low expectations the Jeep had harvested. “Agreed,” the American voice muttered and Rusty was unsurprised. At this point, it appeared evident that the leader of the clan had no more influence on what was happening. Silently, she followed the cars as they drove up the ramp and lined up. Rusty felt his motor heating up again. Longtail was trained and his wheels and general design gave him an immense advantage. But there was no way the Ferrari would let him win just like that.

With a honk from Bluestar, the two sprinted forwards. Even though the Jeep had bigger wheels, it was harder for him to immediately gain the momentum that Rusty had with his high acceleration. The area around the camp was configured like a giant racing track, clear marks and signs of immense use leading the way. When Rusty threw himself into the first curve, he was in the lead, though barely. As soon as they were around the corner, Longtail was ahead of him, able to keep steadier and retain grip at a higher pace than the Ferrari. 

Rusty was far from his top speed but already he felt like his wheels were swerving a little and he couldn’t keep steady. But with every moment he stayed at his current tempo, Longtail got further ahead. Quickly, the red car realised that his only chance of winning was to accelerate and use his top speed to his advantage. Without thinking, he shot forward, happily realising just how steady he was able to keep. But, just as quickly as he was climbing closer towards his opponent, he felt himself losing control over his wheels. He was simply going to fast, the dark not helping him as he drifted around the next curve and felt his left side scraping against a tree. The excruciating screeching of his outer paint coating being lifted echoed through the forest.

As Rusty was falling back again, he picked up a bluetooth signal from Longtail. “Can’t keep up, pet, huh? Just as I thought.” Determination started mixing with anger. Rusty felt like a wolf showing his teeth, hungry after tasting blood. They passed the next curve. He was not going to give up now. Instead of slowing down to gain more control, he accelerated again, climbing up to 250 mph as he sped along the dirt, quickly catching up with Longtail again. There was no way a Jeep’s maximum speed was going to be as high as his, so Rusty felt confident he would be able to take back the lead. As they approached the next curve, he was right next to the clan car — a fact he barely realised since he was so focused on the race itself and the path in front of him. 

But as they went into the final curve, the quick spin of his wheels threw him off the track. Unable to gain back control he felt himself slide back further until his back hit a thick oak at full speed. For a moment, he received absolutely no signals, everything seemed to have been paused. Then he found himself again, pressed against the tree, away from the race. His motor was hot — Rusty was perplexed that no smoke was coming out from his bonnet yet. 

“Are you okay?” he heard the now familiar voice of Bluestar approach and quickly noticed her presence to his side. He felt bad, unable to reply to her. She had seen something in him, whatever it was, and had risked protest from clan cars to bring him here. And he had failed her. “You tell me,” he finally got out, feeling defeated. She drove up closer to him. At this point, Rusty did not know if it was fear that he should be feeling. He didn’t know what was about to happen or what she was going to do to him. 

“A few scratches. Spottedleaf can take care of that.” Rusty turned his front wheels, his headlights shining towards the Range Rover. “Your licence plate is off,” she simply stated and as Rusty quickly ran an analysis program through his board computer, he realised that she was right. Perplexed, he found himself speechless and thrown off. He let himself roll forward a little, turned back around to shine light onto the oak he had been thrown against, his licence plate almost like an imprint against the wood. 

“A sign of StarClan,” Bluestar continued and even though Rusty still felt unable to fully listen to her and was just as confused by what she was saying, it somehow seemed like a positive statement. This thought seemed to be confirmed soon enough when the Range Rover signaled him to follow her back to camp. He realised that his crash had happened practically right next to the ramp, with all the free cars gathered down in the pit, their headlights shining towards him. Silently, he let himself roll down the ramp behind Bluestar.

“Cars of ThunderClan,” she began again. “StarClan has spoken. From today, this car will be known as Firewheel and will be an official apprentice of this clan. He will be treated as one of our own and will receive the same training as any other car. Understood?” For a moment, the silence was so excruciating that Firewheel almost turned around and sped right out of the camp again, away from all of this. But then, the voices of more and more cars came to life.

“Firewheel! Firewheel! Firewheel!”


End file.
